


Swinging on a Star

by addledwalrus



Category: Original Work
Genre: 1940s, 1950s, Affection, Anniversary, Arranged Marriage, Babies, Baby Names, Bad Parenting, Bedtime Stories, Bigotry & Prejudice, Bodily Fluids, Caring, Childishness, Children, Children's Stories, Class Differences, Curiosity, Daughters, Dinner, Discrimination, Draft Evasion, Dysfunctional Relationships, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Endearments, Engagement, Euthanasia, F/M, Family Issues, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fatherhood, Fear, Food, Higher Education, Historical, Hypocrisy, Immorality, Inheritance, Insults, Jealousy, Manipulative Relationship, Marriage, Married Couple, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Money, Moral Bankruptcy, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Motherhood, Names, Nannies, Narcissism, Overdosing, Paranoia, Parent-Child Relationship, Parenthood, Plans For The Future, Post-War, Post-World War II, Privilege, References to Drugs, Restaurants, Toddlers, Unhealthy Relationships, Violent Thoughts, Waiters & Waitresses, Wealth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-19 08:05:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14869922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/addledwalrus/pseuds/addledwalrus
Summary: A narcissistic woman and her partner map out the future among other things.





	1. Chapter 1

**1947**

"Degenerates, the people here..." Irene, a beautiful but shrewish woman of twenty-five muttered quietly to her fiance, moments after she'd asked a waiter to take her meal back to the kitchen. "Why did you choose for us to dine in this place? You know how I feel about Mediterraneans."

"I understand, darling..." Thirty year old John Beaumont grumbled in disdain at her attitude. "...but with the money I have now, this was the most affordable establishment I could find that still catered to people of our station."

Irene raised an eyebrow before her attention was temporarily stolen by the returning waiter. She graciously accepted her fixed main course, only to insult the young man once he was gone.

"Dumb mule. He didn't even address me properly..."

John ignored the petty complaint in lieu of continuing to explain his situation.

"If it's any consolation, my father's health has been getting worse each week. It's only a matter of time before he has to hand over the estate and my inheritance."

"Well, it needs to happen soon. I want our child to have the best life possible."

"As do I, but we must remain patient. You know that it's poor form to speak of such matters here..."

"I know that, John. God forgive me for caring more about the future than you, since Public Service seems to have made you soft."

She took a sip of wine and savored the taste in her mouth for a good ten or so seconds before swallowing. John simply frowned as he remembered how his refusal to partake in military service had forced him into the alternative of working in a psychiatric hospital and being haunted by the suffering of patients.

In contrast, Irene continued to enjoy her privileged life without caring at all for those less well off than them, which left John wishing that he could simply forget the past couple of years and return to his previous state of ignorance.

He lowered his head in anguish and tried to focus on the wedding planned for spring, though all it really did, was make him fear that any daughter he might have would grow up to become exactly like Irene in character and outlook.


	2. Chapter 2

**1948**

_"Such an ugly little creature. Will you ever be beautiful?"_

Irene Beaumont as she was now called, furrowed her brows in disgust at the infant with froggish features that regarded the world with complete awe.

John had decided that their daughter would be named 'Patricia' after the Latin word for 'noble' and she'd begrudgingly accepted it due to the clear message it would send the world.

Irene found herself doubting that Patricia would actually live up to the meaning of her name, as the six month old produced horribly shrill noises and smiled like a complete idiot.

 _"Are you mocking me, little one?"_ Irene thought in paranoia while lifting the infant out of the cradle and being met by saliva dripping on to her hands.

Irene had her self-control to thank for the fact that she didn't try to fling Patricia out of the nearest window right then and there.

"Ma...mama..." Patricia uttered with some difficulty, having learned to recognize her mother's face though she was far too young to fear the malevolent impulse that had briefly come over the woman.

A foul smell suddenly became apparent and it took Irene some time to realize where it came from.

She fought the urge to drop Patricia on the floor while running to the bathroom and desperately wishing that her daughter's awful crying would stop on it's own.

_"We need a nanny. I can't deal with this everyday..."_

* * *

She brought up the possibility of employing a nanny at dinner that night and to her surprise, John agreed without question.

The ease of it all left Irene feeling rather disappointed, for fighting to get her way felt quite thrilling even if it also tended to drain her of energy.

She eyed John suspiciously for the remainder of their time at the table, convinced that he had an ulterior motive for giving in so easily.

Little did she know, John thought the suggestion was a good idea for the simple reason that it meant Patricia would likely have a more moral influence in her life.


	3. Chapter 3

**1949**

_"I'll know if you've slept with her. Mark my words."_

Those words bothered John for weeks after he'd returned to college to complete his Doctor of Medicine degree. He didn't know why Irene would believe him to be on the verge of adultery, for twenty-eight year old nanny Annette was nowhere near as attractive or sharp-witted.

On the bright side however, Annette seemed to be doing such a commendable job at looking after Patricia that John began thinking that she deserved a higher wage.

_"All's well if my little princess is in good hands..."_

* * *

"My, aren't you a pretty little lady!" Annette exclaimed dotingly, clasping both hands together after successfully bathing Patricia and dressing her in a matching dress and bow. "All set to go out with your mother!"

Patricia's immediate response to such positivity was to giggle in joy, before reaching up to fumble with the bow adorning her head. Annette gently clasped one hand around the little girl's wrist and guided her pudgy arm back down.

"I think she'd be finished with the cleaning up by...oh..."

Annette's content expression faded when Irene strode into the bedroom looking frighteningly incensed.

"Mrs Beaumont, your daughter's such a delightful little girl..." She tried to assuage, though Irene glared accusingly back without a word.

Annette pushed herself right up against the wall so as to allow Irene plenty of room, while Patricia was picked up and carried downstairs to be placed in a pram.

"...you're so lucky to have her." She finished her earlier sentence breathlessly once the sound of footsteps could no longer be heard, before stepping forward again to smoothen out a creased bedsheet.


	4. Chapter 4

**1952**

The elder Beaumont male passed away during the night at the age of seventy-two, with morphine flooding his bloodstream and a body that was emaciated from his long-lost ability to swallow solid foods.

John was granted official ownership of the family fortune and estate in court, something he could react to with admirable restraint despite feeling quite liberated inside.

He and Irene played the part of a grieving couple in public for the sake of reputation before dropping the pretence once they were in the safety of their home.

"It's all ours now. You were right to remind me that patience was vital." Irene said sweetly in one of her rare moments of gratitude while holding Patricia's hand. She gave the four-year-old an uncharacteristic smile of affection which would have convinced most that she was a loving mother indeed.

John observed the scene and wondered what the chances were of him seeing a psychotherapist without anybody finding out.

* * *

Patricia wriggled excitedly beneath the covers when John entered the room with  _Noddy Goes to Toyland_ , the book she'd marked ownership of by writing her name crudely all over the title page.

"Hooray, Noddy!" She squealed while unable to contain her joy.

John read the book in a rather apathetically as he'd done every night for the past few months, though Patricia smiled like she was only just hearing the story for the first time.

"Daddy, why do Noddy and Big Ears wear funny hats?" She asked once he'd reached the end of the book.

"Because they're elves."

"But why?"

"I don't know. Maybe the law says they should."

"Why does the law say they should?"

"Because it does. Now, that's enough. It's time for sleep."

"I don't want to..."

"Yes, you must." John insisted before kissing her on the forehead and getting up to turn off the light. She gave a little shriek as it went dark, although he chose to ignore it while walking out to encounter Irene.

"You love her more than you love me, don't you?" She muttered sullenly, crossing her arms at the sight of his face.

"Why would you think that, darling? I love you both equally..."

"Then how could you have forgotten what today is? It's our fifth anniversary. You ought to give me something made of wood."

"Oh, blast. I swear I'll buy it first thing tomorrow afternoon. Would that suffice?"

"It had better. I'll be waiting." Irene replied, flashing him a harsh look before she glided off down the hall.


End file.
